


Terminal Velocity

by catboyronster, zovinar



Category: Code Geass
Genre: 10 reasons why you shouldnt fuck your brainwashed bf, Angst, Guns, Hatesex, Insubordination, M/M, Mind Control, Murder, Power Imbalances, Self Flagellation, Suicidal Ideation, dub con, gunfucking, literally ten different levels of dubious consent, specific warnings for Julius and Suzaku respectively
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catboyronster/pseuds/catboyronster, https://archiveofourown.org/users/zovinar/pseuds/zovinar
Summary: Where does Julius end and Lelouch begin? Suzaku’s struggle to reconcile the differences isn’t the same as going through the five stages of grief, but it won't stop him from suffering through it regardless.
Relationships: Julius Kingsley/Kururugi Suzaku, Kururugi Suzaku/Lelouch Lamperouge | Lelouch vi Britannia
Comments: 48
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> please mind the tags! the con is very dub, as in there is consent but it is dubious AT BEST

“An Honorary?” is the first thing from his mouth when the emperor points out his escort. 

“No,” corrects Charles zi Britannia, 98th Emperor of the Holy Britannian Empire. “One of my Rounds. He will keep you safe for the campaign.”

The Knight of Seven turns and Julius feels his brows rise as he finally recognizes him. “Kururugi,” he says with surprise. “But did he not fail Your Majesty before?” he can’t help but ask, but the emperor just chuckles.

“He has proven himself to me. In time, he shall be known as one of my most loyal subjects.” Julius bows his head in deference—His Majesty’s forgiveness is his as well—and the emperor nods his approval. “Good, he will see to your needs while you are away. My sword will, for a time, be yours to wield as you see fit, Lord Kingsley.”

“I—” Julius feels his breath stop. “My lord, I am not _worthy.”_

“You are worthy because I say you are such,” orders His Majesty, sternly before his face softens. His facial expression briefly registers as fondness to Julius, but just as quick, he turns with his hands clasped behind his back. “I have been your patron for many a year, Julius, but never forget that you yourself earned this place by my side through your deeds.”

His words leave Julius speechless with thanks, blinking rapidly to try and dismiss the wetness that touches his eye as his heart soars at the words of praise. “…Your Majesty, I have only ever tried to be your most faithful subject, to grant you all I could possibly offer, to be as useful as I can—”

“And for it, Lord Kingsley, I have decided to reward you.” The emperor turns and sweeps out an arm, gesturing Kururugi to come forth and the Knight obeys, setting the case he carries to the side before bowing deeply to His Majesty, hand over his heart.

He does not once look at Julius. 

§

_“Look at me,_ Suzaku Kururugi,” snarls Julius, slamming his fist on the desk before him. It has been _hours_ since the Knight had brought to him the Imperial Scepter, yet Kururugi refuses to even turn his dead gaze his way. Half of Julius is still rapturous over how much faith His Majesty has entrusted him with, but the other is exasperated with Kururugi. _How dare he ruin this moment for Julius._ He simply wants to grab the Knight by the hair and shake him like the disobedient dog he is. “You _will_ look me in the eye when I speak with you, Sir Kururugi,” Julius orders, before he winces at a flash of pain in his head. “K-Kururugi—”

Su—

His mouth goes dry.

Buzzing fills his ears—cicadas? 

His covered eye burns as the world warps around him. 

He covers it with a hand even as his other reaches out to Kururugi, who watches on with indescribable expression—

To Su—

“Suzaku…w—”

_Water._

§

Julius wakes with a jolt. He…what? His study…that side table, yes, he’s laying on his study couch, he must have—

“You passed out,” Kururugi _uselessly_ informs him.

“I’m anemic,” Julius tells him flatly, looking around the room. His face feels bare… “What?” he snaps when he catches Kururugi’s incredulous expression. “Don’t look at me like that, I may not be from the most noble of lines, but I’m still well-bred…” He trails off as his eyes land on his eyepatch on the table next to Kururugi. 

_“You took it off!?”_ he hisses, clapping a hand over his ruined eye, hiding the scars with his fingers. “How _dare_ you—!”

“Apologies, Lord Kingsley,” says Kururugi in that damn annoying, formal, empty tone of his. “I had thought that its removal would help me ascertain the status of your health.”

“You presume far too much.” Julius tries to make himself look the opposite of desperate as he reaches for the cloth when Kururugi extends his hand towards him. It’s hard to not want to cover his greatest flaw with the comforting fabric, hard to fully still his trembling fingers as he snatches it up, especially so because now Kururugi is looking at him, finally! But Julius just feels exposed, raw and vulnerable, and all Julius wants to do now is claw those icy chips of judging jade from Kururugi’s skull so the Knight can never look at him again. 

“Get out,” Julius snaps at him instead, amethysts clattering against each other as he hastily ties his eyepatch back on. “Make arrangements with Lord Asplund. We fly out at dawn tomorrow.”

§

As they begin to land, Julius catches the view of soldiers scurrying around the hangar, like panicked ants when the nest is disturbed, their hustle becoming all the more evident as they come closer to the ground. He huffs a laugh; Duke Kozlov’s penchant for sloppiness evident in the way his men scramble about. Kururugi disembarks and lends a hand to Julius as he steps down from the plane, pretending to be unbothered by the sounds of disorder around him. 

“Greetings, Lord Kingsley.” A singular man bows in front of Julius—another mark of the Duke’s carelessness. “The Duke is busy attending to matters regarding the Europa front; we are currently struggling with reinforcements. I have orders to escort you to him immediately.” 

“Hm, we seemed to have arrived at an interesting time; if the Duke is not greeting us himself, then things must truly be dire,” Julius muses to himself. “Very well, let us meet him.” 

The man brightens immediately. “You are most gracious, Lord Kingsley,” he murmurs, waving for an escort as he hustles them off to the operation’s command room. There, the door slides open to show a rumpled looking man in a hastily fastened cape.

“Greetings, Duke Kozlov,” Julius announces as he enters the command room. “I see you are as…organized as ever.” 

The man in turn bows to Julius, “L-Lord Kingsley! My sincere apologies for not welcoming you myself.” He catches sight of Kururugi, who steps forward from behind Julius to enter the command room. 

“Ah! A Knight of the Round!” The Duke greets him with a bow. “Lord Kingsley, it may be presumptuous to ask, but may we have his assistance? The Europa United rabble has been a continuous nuisance. He would just need to stall until reinforcements arrive so that we may detain them.”

Julius doesn’t even try to hide his smirk. “You may assist them, Kururugi,” he drawls, waving dismissively at his Knight. “Show them the might of Britannia. But do not be reckless, you must live,” there’s a twinkle in Julius’s eye as he says it as if it is an inside joke and, for a moment, Kururugi grimaces. 

§

The mission, of course, devolves into absolute bedlam almost immediately; unsurprising when considering the man in charge. But if Duke Kozlov’s ham-handed idea of command gets Julius’s Knight killed then heads will roll.

“Open a line to the Lancelot,” Julius snaps impatiently as the flying Knightmare’s factspheres show only empty forest instead of the Duke’s missing troops. The officers at the communication lines freeze, stunned at Julius’s sudden outburst. “Now, you fools! Do you realize that this could all be a set up?” 

“Nonsense!” huffs Kozlov, making Julius ache to wrap his fingers around the useless man’s neck. “Have the Knight of Seven land, tell him to search on foot if he has to. These are my best men! The signal’s clear enough that they must be close.”

“Enough of this.” Julius reaches over, waving a technician out of his way as he presses the button on the console that connects to the Lancelot’s communication array. “Sir Kururugi, fall back and await further orders.”

“My lord—?” starts Kururugi before an explosion fills the screen and the line goes to static.

“A sniper cannon,” gasps a technician as they lose visuals from one factsphere, the other shoulder-mounted camera only showing the rapidly approaching ground. “The float system’s been hit!”

 _“Obviously,”_ snarls Julius, shoving the stammering Duke out of his way as the Lancelot falls from the sky. “Delta Unit,” he snaps as he grabs a spare headset, “what’s the status on the reinforcements?”

“F-fifteen minutes, sir!”

“Damn them!” Julius shouts, throwing the headset aside as pieces start to click into place. “Stabilize the connection with the Lancelot— Kururugi, report!”

“Yes my lord,” comes the Knight’s voice over the line, grainy but strong. “I’ve destroyed the anti-KMF cannon but lost one of my MVSs in the process—”

“One of these days I will finally get you to stop _throwing swords,”_ hisses Julius to himself, fingers pressing into his temples. 

“— counting at least twelve enemy Alexander Knightmare units.”

Julius’s eyes go wide. Twelve against one while already short a weapon, even for Suz—

“Incoming missile bombardment!” calls a frantic looking technician.

“Set forward shields to max,” orders Julius. “Reroute all power from weapons systems to the Blaze Luminous.”

“But my troops…” stammers Kozlov.

“They’re not there!” Julius does his best to not shout while gleefully starting to plan several court martials in the back of his mind. “Your commander has obviously been off the chain for too long. The request wasn’t for reinforcements, it was for _bait.”_ A mistake. They couldn’t’ve picked a worse victim, Kururugi never played nice and was no one’s damsel. 

“Missile impact in three! Two! O—”

Their last view from the factsphere on the Lancelot’s left shoulder is of the glowing green light of the Blaze Luminous and thermal readouts from detonations before it too goes dark.

“Bring up aerial cameras,” Julius orders through clenched teeth, the leather of his gloves creaking as his hands fist in leashed fury.

“Viewpoint up!” an officer calls, fingers flying over her console. 

The shaky image shows the charred looking Lancelot as the last flickers of the Blaze Luminous go out, leaving the nightmare surrounded on all sides by enemy forces. The reinforcements still too far out to be of any help. 

“—ive” come softly across Kururugi’s comm line.

Julius jerks the speaker closer to his ear. “What?” 

“I HAVE TO L—”

Kururugi’s comm cuts off with a roar.

On the battlefield, the surrounded Lancelot explodes into motion.

§

“What were you _thinking?”_ The commander storms through the corridor, voice booming. Stomping up to Kururugi, he grabs a fistfull of the Knight’s uniform as he attempts to stare down Kururugi, even though he stands a head shorter than the knight. 

“Ah?” Kururugi blinks in surprise, and the commander releases him, the force knocking Kururugi back, stumbling against the wall. 

“Of all the incompetent— What the hell were you thinking!?” The commander’s face radiates anger. Julius watches them, hiding a snicker with his glove at the sight. 

“Apologies my lord, I’m unsure of what you speak. My recollection of the battle isn’t exactly clear,” Kururugi bows, fist on his heart, in a sincere apology to the commander. 

“Tsk. This is what happens when a filthy _Number_ has autonomy,” the commander sneers, face gone ugly with disgust and Julius feels his insides go cold, amusement vanishing. Kururugi avoids eye contact; his own expression a picture of shame. “Detaining them was _essential_ for gathering information, you dolt! But you went and killed them all! How can we question the dead?” Kururugi stays silent while the commander rants on, “Can’t trust a _Number_ to get the job done. If I had known a _Number_ was coming to help, I would have refused!” 

“I—” Kururugi starts before Julius steps forward, hand raised to cut Kururugi off. 

“Be silent you stupid little man,” Julius snaps, patience evaporating. “The Knight of Seven is a handpicked member of His Imperial Majesty’s Knights of the Rounds, who on _Earth_ do you think you are to presume to judge him? Kururugi, stand up. I tire of you entertaining this farce.” 

“You dare speak to me as such? You filthy upstart—”

And Julius’s eyes dart down to the case at his feet, he one that holds the Imperial Scepter, the proof of his power, but before he can act Kururugi steps forward and, expressionlessly, slaps the man full across the face. “You are not to defy Lord Kingsley; he is here as the representative of Emperor Charles zi Britannia himself,” Kururugi orders with a steely voice and hard eyes. 

“O-oh.” the commander cradles his cheek as he shrinks away from Kururugi. “M-my sincere apologies, I did not know to whom I spoke to.” 

Julius just sneers at him. “Next time you will remember to think before speaking to your betters, Commander Volkov, a man not even from the homeland should know his place. All men are _not_ created equal, after all and Sir Kururugi has proven himself to be your better by far. Wouldn’t you agree? His performance today was exceptional; it is not his fault that _your reinforcements_ are incompetent.”

Volkov grimances, and murmurs something incomprehensible under his breath. 

“I’m _sorry,_ Commander Volkov, did you say something? Kururugi, if you don’t mind,” Julius says with a wave of his hand, eyes locked on that of the foolish man who dares to defy him. 

“Of course, Lord Kingsley,” Kururugi echos, bending to lift the hefty case at Julius’s feet before opening it, presenting its contents to him. The stout man’s eyes follow the direction of Kururugi’s movements, widening at the sight of the Imperial Scepter. Julius retrieves it from its encasing, running his fingers along it in a lover’s worshipful caress, ignoring the man in front of him. 

“Do you know what this is, Commander?” Julius inquires while continuously loving the Scepter. 

Volkov, who is no fool, drops to his knees immediately, fist to his heart and head down in reverence. “Yes, my lord.” 

“So wouldn’t you agree then, that Kururugi’s performance today exceeded your expectations?” Julius couldn’t help the sadistic hilt of glee that slipped in his voice. 

“Y-Yes, my lord. His actions today were exceptional in every way.” 

“And—” 

“Forgive me, my lord,” Kururugi interrupts. “We should seek Lord Asplund immediately, for this has caused a delay in our schedule. We should not keep him waiting. ” 

§

“Truly, what on Earth _were_ you thinking, Kururugi,” huff Julius as they finally board the train, the Knight of Seven trailing behind him as he makes his way to the rooms that will be his. Luckily his cabin is lavish enough for his taste, with an adjoining study, he notes as they enter. “Shut the door,” he orders shortly, tossing his documents on the desk as Kururugi sets his case down.

“I…wasn’t,” The Knight admits, brow furrowing for the barest second before smoothing.

“You must think before your actions. I am responsible for you, Kururugi, and I do not think highly of being subjected to the yapping of the Duke’s sloppy dog of a commander because of _your_ failings.” The amethysts of Julius’s eyepatch twinkle as his face inches closer to the Knight, eye boring into Kururugi.

“I thought you had asked me to live, Lord Kingsley,” says Kururugi cooly, standing at attention with his hands at the small of his back, eyes distant and looking past Julius because Julius will never truly be his master, not as long as Kururugi remains one of the Rounds, and suddenly something inside Julius is burning, _molten,_ because he 

_He is mine._

~~**_My_ ** _Knight,_ ~~

“…Sir Kururugi, come here,” says Julius, voice suddenly gone soft, mind distant.

“Lord Kingsley?” Kururugi asks, even as he steps forward like the obedient dog he is, and Julius has to restrain the odd, childlike glee that threatens to split his face. _So good for me and only me._

“Kneel.” 

“What—?” Kururugi balks before Julius’s hand lands on his head, forcing him down. The inside of his own head is swimming, lost and adrift as something _demanding_ reaches out and grips his insides.

“Sir Kururugi,” murmurs Julius, voice velvet as he tangles his gloved fingers in Kururugi’s hair. “Today, I have decided that you will pay for your transgressions by servicing me. As I have suffered the sins of the mouth, you will repay me as such.”

Kururugi freezes at his feet, and for a moment, Julius thinks that it will be the end of their little game, the end to that tug of war between them they have—because Julius wants to take, take, _take_ —because he knows that his power only goes as far as Kururugi is willing to enforce, his Majesty’s lent sword arm, but instead the Knight bows his head in subservience.

“Yes, Lord Kingsley,” says Kururugi hollowly, and Julius’s smile slips wide and manic as Kururugi leans in, taking the zipper of his suit in his teeth and tugging it down to expose the flat of his belly then the black fabric of his briefs. Julius himself has never done this before, and that thought alone is intoxicating enough, but he can still feel that the illustrious Sir Kururugi is practiced at this, has _experience_. He quivers in excitement. Fingers tangle in the waistband of his briefs as Kururugi pulls them out of the way, nosing along the bottom of Julius’s hardening cock with a shaking breath, and something like rapture chokes a gleeful gasp in his throat. 

“Yes, good,” Julius hisses, breathing words of praise to the man at his feet when Kururugi takes him delicately into his mouth. For he who lives to take, Kururugi never seems to tire of giving, never tire of cutting off bits of himself to feed to Julius, to sate his ego, his masters and— Something washes over him, something familiar and warm, and he can’t help but run his fingers through Kururugi’s coarse hair, preening him, whispering soft words of encouragement. 

“That’s it,” he sighs, “you’re always so good for me.” A shiver runs through Kururugi and suddenly he’s working his mouth in a fervor. Emotions start to bubble within Julius that he cannot contain, the rush in his head of overwhelming thoughts and drowning out his cries of pleasure as his hips start to thrust softly, fucking the back of Kururugi’s throat as it flutters around him, Kururugi letting out a helpless sound that vibrates through Julius and into his bones. Wild thoughts run rampant; thoughts of longing and comfort and pain cyclone within him as tension ratchets higher within and, like an epiphany of self, Julius comes, _hard,_ down Kururugi’s throat.

In the space afterward, there is only the sound of Julius’s soft gasps as Kururugi obediently tucks Julius away, face as expressionless as ever even with the raw red of his mouth still glistening wetly—and for a moment Julius wants to see Kururugi undone, wants to pull Kururugi’s used mouth back open and slide his own fingers in until he chokes on them. 

Instead, at the last second, Julius knocks Kururugi’s hands aside and finishes zipping up his suit himself, stepping away from the kneeling man. “That will be all, Seven.”

“.…Yes, my lord,” Kururugi rasps quietly, voice ruined.

§

Suzaku stands outside the door to Julius’s study cabin, staring out the window blankly. Shaking slightly, he presses the back of his wrist over his mouth, wiping at the mix of his own saliva and—

His insides tighten in sickness, stomach roiling as he swallows thickly around the sensation of Julius’s cum coating his throat. It used to be a feeling he’d savor, being able to catch Lelouch’s eye in class and lick his lips to show he could still taste him even well after their break, to make Lelouch blush high across his cheekbones, or even to have Lelouch licking the remains back out of his mouth afterward, tongue running along Suzaku’s upper palate.

But all this is nothing compared to how he’d felt that first time he’d seen Julius with the emperor, watching Lelouch fawn like a sycophant over the one person he hated most—if Suzaku hadn’t beaten Charles out in those last moments of cognizance, anyway. After spending so much time trying to greedily occupy the most prominent positions in Lelouch’s life, it’s only fair if he now has this one as well. Friend, lover, and now enemy, it’s only fair.

It’s only fair, it’s only fair, _it’s only fair_. It has always only been fair. And yet, a part of him still twists inward on itself, trying to consume him, threatening to drown him if he wanders too deep.

Suzaku swallows again and tries not to throw up. He takes one step, then another, wandering amongst the cabins before he finally ends up at his own quarters where someone has already brought his traveling case. Reaching out slowly, he pulls open a drawer, staring into the empty space. Forcibly, he puts it out of his mind as starts to unpack, mindlessly stowing his belongings. They arrive at St. Petersburg by the end of the week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suzaku’s inner monologue is that meme of that dog: this is fine


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps the sign* mind the tags

Julius starts when the door to his room opens, but can’t help his smile when it clicks shut harshly after. The small thump of a case being dropped to the floor is all the sign he needs. Ah, it seems that Kururugi isn’t happy with him, though when is he ever. “Yes, Sir Knight?” he simpers, not bothering to turn around.

“For once in your life Lord Kingsley you should learn to watch your mouth and mind your tongue,” snaps Kururugi, very obviously displeased at the scene Julius had made earlier with the Grand Duke.

“Hmm, is that so,” Julius muses, hardly giving Kururugi’s words any mind at all. Escorted as they were to the visitor’s quarters in Caesars Palace, Julius is about ready for a nap. Dealing with his lessers is a taxing affair after all. Several snaps echo throughout the room and he proceeds to shrug the cape off his shoulders, letting it fall to his feet in a ripple of silken fabric.

“I think,” Julius plucks off each glove finger by finger before tossing them over his shoulder. One of the gloves barely clips Kururugi’s shoulder, before landing haphazardly across the room. “You ought to learn how to speak to your superiors properly. Be grateful that I have been in a rather delightful mood today.”

Kururugi makes a small huff of indignation, but refuses to answer Julius’s provocation, as much as he obviously wants to. Julius catches the Kururugi’s eyes over his shoulder and smirks when they flicker to the plush carpet at his feet. 

“Oh? So soon to avert your eyes,” Julius chides, shrugging off his jacket next and letting it fall gracelessly to his bed. His bare arms feel the chill of the room around him, but it barely touches the burning in his core that had ignited the second Kururugi rebuked him. He wants more. He wants to see how far he could push his _awfully_ loyal Knight. “Do you perhaps like what you see, Knight of Seven?”

_“Excuse_ me?” Kururugi spits, eyes snapping back only to be met by Julius’s satisfied grin.

“Good, good. It’s best to look at your betters when they speak to you, Kururugi, you know that.” Eyes still locked with the knight’s, Julius’s hands find the fasteners of his suit, fingers grasping the zipper and pulling slowly, sound harsh in the night’s quiet as inch by inch the milky white skin of his chest is laid bare for Kururugi’s gaze. He suppresses a shiver as the knight’s eyes go dark; with fury or hunger, he doesn’t know but it almost doesn’t matter because Julius just _wants_ , wants all of him, in any way he can.

A beat passes, and then the moment ends all too soon. Kururugi’s eyes are elsewhere, but Julius can still see the heat behind them, simmering down. But Julius doesn’t want that. Slipping the garment off his shoulders, he taunts, “you _will_ look at me,” in an mocking echo to their first argument but, oh, have things changed so much now, Kururugi barely able to keep his eyes off of Julius as something within the knight festers and stews within him. As the knight reluctantly meets Julius’s amethyst eye, Julius takes note of the intensity behind his gaze. “Very good. I expect you to be diligent when it comes to my safety; Britannia cannot afford to lose _another_ asset from under your care.”

“You know nothing,” Kururugi says flatly, but Julius can’t help his lazy smirk at that.

“I certainly do _know_. I am,” Julius waves a hand as he speaks, “as you’ve learned, one of His Majesty’s greatest allies—and I shan’t have you dallying around with your job.” 

“…I know how to attend to my duties, Lord Kingsley,” 

“Well I hope you’re more capable than you’ve proven to be previously. His Majesty has trusted you with my protection after all and I certainly need you to be more capable now than how you were with Princess Euph—” 

Something in the air shatters. In a flurry of madness, Kururugi grabs at him and unholsters his gun, aiming into Julius’s covered eye. White hot rage radiates from the knight, and the pressure of the gun on his injured eye increases. “Because of you, I—” 

Julius’s mind goes blank. Something stirs deep in his belly, and the feeling is _intoxicating_. 

And he wants more. 

He chases the feeling, body moving on its own as his fingers wrap around the barrel in a gentle caress, pulling it down over his cheek and across his lips before dragging it along his tongue. The sharpness of the barrel sends shivers down his spine as his exhale becomes tinged with a slight moan. 

Kururugi flushes, mouth dropping open slightly as color flags high on his cheeks, steady arm sinking with his shock and something heady flashing in his eyes. The sight sends a bolt of arousal through Julius so strong he goes light-headed. As if on autopilot, he is falling to his knees, fingers scrambling at Kururugi’s belt. A hand grabs at his hair, for a moment pulling him back, before a knowing sound comes from Kururugi, something _knowing_ and dark and pleased. “Oh? I’m sorry Lord Kingsley, is there something here _you_ like?”

Julius whines in response, eyes glued to the haphazard way the belt sags on Kururugi’s hips, and breathes out a small moan. Kururugi chuckles, unclasping his belt and undoing his pants, too slow for Julius’s liking, but he does nothing to speed up the process, entranced by sheer authority that radiates off of the knight. 

“What? Get on with it then, or do you need instructions now?” Kururugi barks once his belt undone and pants open for Julius’s attention. “I thought you, Lord Kingsley, would know something of this, or is your usual charade as a whore fake after all?” 

Julius’s mouth dries, stunned at Kururugi’s vulgarity toward him. He knows he should put the knight in his place, but as the words slip from Kururugi’s mouth and the knight takes in Julius’s frozen state, all he can do is let his eye rake over Kururugi’s frame, gaze catching on the pistol still held in the other man’s hand. Julius swallows. 

“Hmm” Kururugi muses, and brings the gun to Julius’s temple, the cool metal a sharp contrast to the heat of his body and Julius takes a sharp breath. It’s dizzying how much he likes it, sending a flare of heat down from his core to his groin that has him pressing a hand over his clothed and growing erection with a small whimper and a fluttering of his eyelids. 

“Lord Kingsley, have you forgotten something?” The gun that was once on his temple traces down his cheek and catches on his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to look at the strain in the knight’s white trousers and then the dark look in Kururugi’s eyes. 

Julius blinks, trying to clear the haze that’s become increasingly hard to ignore. “S-sorry,” he starts faintly before his words catch up to him and he flushes with humiliation—Julius Kingsley does _not_ apologize, not to trash like the Knight of Seven—he does not apologize, he conquers! Just as His Majesty would want of him. And yet, he finds that his fingers fail him as he fumbles to take Kururugi’s cock out, already hard and ready for his attention. 

Julius eyes widen at the sight; he’s never actually seen a man _so personally_ before, and briefly he wonders how small he would look in comparison to the dick in front of him. Kururugi had taken him so easily after all, but this…he’s not sure… 

“Well?” Kururugi smirks down at him infuriatingly. Not wanting to reveal any cowardice to his inferior, Julius takes a heavy breath before taking as much of Kururugi as he can. He hits the sensitive part of his throat, faltering for a moment and Kururugi snorts with derision, and oh, does Julius _burn_ —pushed past the breaking point, something inside him says, but maybe that’s what he _wants_ —and struggles to keep his composure as tears slowly stream from his eye. Ignoring how sloppy he feels with drool smeared over his mouth and hot tears making their way down his cheek, he presses on, finding an unsteady rhythm, not wanting to show weakness to the man in front of him. 

“My my, Lord Kingsley, isn’t this a sight to see?” Kururugi murmurs and Julius hums absentmindedly in response, taking more of Kururugi in his mouth, more carefully this time. There was something lurking beneath those words, as if the sight of Julius on his knees in front of him, eye glassy, and panting around his cock stirred darkness within the knight. “Can’t use your pretty little words now that your mouth is full, can you?” 

Kururugi thrusts forward, knocking Julius off balance, causing him to grasp at Kururugi’s uniform to keep himself from choking. His eye waters more in tandem as his mouth widens to take more of Kururugi, the metal barrel pressing into his skull a constant threat. He feels himself stutter as he swallows badly, breath hitching wrong. He pulls back slightly to catch his breath, and Kururugi gives a short, unimpressed sigh.

“Stop slobbering all over my cock, Lord Kingsley. I thought you said that you were well-bred, shouldn’t you be better at this?” Kururugi growls and a hand yanks Julius’s hair, forcing Julius to take more of his dick in his mouth. “Shouldn’t you be better _than_ this? On your knees for a Number?”

_“Stop stalling and fuck my throat, Suzaku,”_ is what reflexively wants to pop out of his mouth, gagged as he is by Kururugi’s cock, but even the thought of the oppressive girth that’s overtaking his oral cavity moving at all makes his throat tighten already, instinct wanting him to take more than he knows how to handle, so all that comes out of his mouth are awkward gags and haggard breaths. 

“Disgusting,” spits Kururugi, yanking hard to pull Julius off harshly and Julius scrambles as Kururugi grabs his jaw. An earthy flavor invades his mouth as a gloved thumb slides into Julius’s mouth to hold it wide. The sudden intrusion has Julius gasping and sputtering, but the firm press on his tongue and the grip on his jaw prevent him from composing himself from the sudden change. 

“Here,” Kururugi says with a sick, mocking humor, “practice on this,” and instead of Kururugi’s hot, slick dick, in slides something cold and hard, something that scrapes the roof of his mouth as Kururugi presses in farther and pulls back with a rough drag and

And—

Julius’s head is spinning; Kururugi is fucking into his mouth with a _gun_ and he can barely breathe, barely _think_ as he is consumed by the cool taste of metal on his tongue, a stark contrast to the warmth that he feels overtaking his body. Kururugi’s hand, like a burning brand against his skull, slides up the side of his face and tangles his fingers in inky locks, twisting his grip in Julius’s hair, tugging in a way that tips his head back, and Julius has no choice but to moan and open his mouth wider to take more of the barrel. Julius chokes back a groan, shoving greedy fingers past the waistband of his underwear to pull himself out of his suit to relieve the pressure, only for his hand to be kicked away by Kururugi.

“Pay attention, Lord Kingsley,” the knight taunts, boot coming to rest on Julius’s erection threatening, but that just stokes him higher. Tears leak anew from his eye as his jaw aches and Julius knows that he must look debauched, that he should be ashamed of himself for crying and slobbering and leaking over mere rough-handling from _Kururugi_ —surely if His Majesty were here now he would be scandalized at the sight! But the tinge of shame and humiliation that colors the desire within him only makes the situation that much sweeter as saliva spills from the corner of his lips to dribble down his chin and throat. 

“Tch,” he hears distantly as the pressure on his crotch increases and Julius moans wantonly around metal. The heat inside him builds and he can’t help but rub against the ribbed underside of Kururugi’s boot. The small motions of his hips send electricity up his spine and his eyelids flutter at the feeling. All the sensations are too new, too overwhelming, too raw for him to take, like lightning in his limbs that makes his fingers tremble. A sharp _click_ reverberates against his jaw and suddenly he’s coming, pulling off Kururugi’s gun with a small gasp, hands gripping tightly in the pristine white uniform as pleasure rolls through his body. 

“Look at you. You really are pathetic like this,” Kururugi mutters in disgust as he nudges the toe of his boot against Julius’s balls, running along the underside of Julius’s softening cock and Julius whimpers, hands losing purchase in the folds of Kururugi’s uniform. Shaking, he falls limply to the side at Kururugi’s feet, weak from overstimulation and twitching at every continued touch from the knight’s boot against his dick. He bites his lip to hold back a whine of protest as the sole of Kururugi’s boot runs up his chest, smearing the trails of Julius’s own cum.

Something in Kururugi’s cold expression goes even harder and, without another word, he turns on his heel; holstering his gun as he walks away, the door closing behind him a decisive click.

Leaving Julius there on the floor, still gasping for breath. Lips wet and aching as his chest heaves, forehead bruised and throbbing, his own cum gone cold on his stomach.

Alone.

The buzz of cicadas fills his ears as his eyes fall shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ronster: Lets play eye spy: I spy 4 kinks in this chapter alone.
> 
> zov: does that include the daddy issues or not tho
> 
> ronster: No bc he doesnt call him daddy  
> ronster: OH SHIT DEGRADATION  
> ronster: Thats 5  
> ronster: Humiliation/degradation
> 
> zov: lit 📝


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you ever just write 3k for a 14-year-old fandom or are you normal?
> 
> anyway, y'all asked for this chap, it was inspired completely by comments so keep on feeding us LOL

They don’t talk about it— _can’t_ talk about it, not when part of Julius feels the pinch of hurt pride from being used and abandoned like an object, not when he’d felt so _sated_ by it, when he’d been unable to keep his fingers from his mouth when he has pleasured himself again that night; pressing down hard to the point of almost gagging.

Kururugi, as usual, seems untouched when he next sees him publicly, but his gaze always seems to fall short of Julius’s eyes. 

Perhaps drifting to his mouth instead.

But it’s not something to concern himself with, not when he’s finally able to do the emperor’s work now. It’s not something they can talk about but that certainly won’t stop Julius from acting as he pleases

Julius begins with little touches in private—a hand here, a finger there—small caresses that barely registered to Kururugi. When those fail to rouse the knight, he starts to get bolder and bolder. A trailing touch across Kururugi’s cheek, a hand sliding down the knight’s spine as he passes, a foot sliding up Kururugi’s thigh during a meal.

It was exhilarating: the anticipation wondering when the knight would succumb to his whims.

It escalates then, to a moment before a meeting of him crowding up against the knight so that their chests brush (so close, _too_ close), his hands roaming across the expanse of Kururugi’s chest before they’re _oh so_ rudely interrupted by a hapless aide who so happens to encounter them right outside the mahogany doors of the council chambers. 

And the fool has the gall to call Julius out on it. 

The aide stammeres, almost dropping the files in shock at the sight before him. “M-my Lord, shouldn’t you be in the meeting?” 

“Hmm,” Julius muses, hands wandering lower, sliding towards that knight’s hips as Kururugi so very helpfully says nothing, treating them both like air. Without breaking eye contact, he echoes the question back. “Shouldn’t you be in the meeting?” 

“I—” The boy begins, then squeaks when Julius’s hands find the hem of Kururugi’s neatly pressed coat, shoving it up the knight’s waist to expose the equally cleanly pressed black shirt underneath. 

Julius takes the time to let the boy collect himself, beginning to untuck the shirt from Kururugi’s pants while he does. Kururugi still does not react, eyes distantly looking past Julius. 

The boy doesn’t answer. 

“Again, shouldn’t _you_ be in the meeting? It is rather improper that you, a lowly aide, have the audacity to show up late for a meeting where my presence has been requested.”

The boy seems to collect himself at that, but instead of answering Julius’s question: “My lord! P-please stop! That…that is improper conduct for one of your station and I—” 

At the outburst, Julius turns, eye blazing, and takes a step forward towards the young man. “Of all the impudence—”

“You’ve been dismissed, Officer Vasiliev,” Kururugi interrupts shortly, shirt half untucked from his pants and his coat wrinkled past the point of proper uniform decency, still empty-eyed as Julius burns in front of him. 

Julius’s eye flickers back to the Knight of Seven, who ignores him in favor of making himself look presentable again, and when he looks back, the space in front of him is empty and the door rattles shut. 

Damn.

He bids his time for a while after that, the days passing without any real incident. Julius’s touches became more frequent, especially in places where they would be easily seen—relishing in the attention that came with wandering eyes and surprised faces, chasing the adrenaline that sent shivers down his spine from Kururugi’s harsh, piercing emerald stare. 

He can’t help himself for the next incident, after Kururugi graciously gets rid of a particularly offensive nuisance for him. The man had gotten countless of his troops slaughtered in his incompetence but when confronted about the matter had the _audacity_ to laugh in Julius’s face about the matter.

So obviously Julius had had the man executed. Needing to pull out the Imperial Scepter to order his death had been almost not worth it, but Kururugi had needed encouragement. 

“Well that matter’s taken care of,” Julius comments idly, caressing along the girth of the scepter.

The knight is oddly hollow-eyed as he lowers his gun, holstering it slowly and Julius can’t help but let his eyes drag over it in remembrance. 

“Of course my lord,” Kururugi says mechanically, taking a step back from the body.

“Oh your poor clothes tho,” Julius can’t help but coo, tracing a delicate line down Kururugi’s jacket with the scepter. “I suppose you’ll need to change now, hmm?” he says, slipping the tip under the hem to drag down Kururugi’s chest, tracing the knight’s muscles. “Look at me,” Julius chides softly, tipping Kururugi’s chin up with a touch of the scepter, meeting the knight’s eyes with his own, smile stretching across his face as a frown creeps across Kururugi’s. 

“You really _do_ have such a habit of going against my wishes, hm?” The scepter strokes along Kururugi’s frame. “But…” the scepter grazes against the crotch of the knight’s pants, “I suppose you do listen when necessary.” 

“Yes, my lord.” Kururugi answers automatically, apparently resigning himself to the continual molestation by the Imperial Scepter. 

“My god man, have you no dignity?” Julius can’t help but heckle him. “What are you, a cheap fuck?” accuses Julius, fighting down a flush at his own crassness, and for a moment the fire he’d been chasing ignites in the knight’s eyes, but then of course someone walks in and makes a fuss over the cooling corpse and ruins the moment. Kururugi then returns back to his lovely imitation of a statue come to life in the presence of outsiders, the bore.

“Tch,” Julius tsks, but steps back to the knight so as to deal with the unneeded drama the man is making over such a trivial matter. No matter. Julius’s is a patient man; he knows how to play the game of cat and mouse. As the days pass he continues the overfamiliar touches here and there, but doesn’t push, as if he was training a dog to adapt to his master’s new behavior. The time to strike again will happen. 

His next step forward is catching the knight unawares in a private meeting of his own with an officer from the Knightmare corps. Julius saunters jauntily in the room, completely disregarding the man speaking and settles himself on Kururugi’s lap, feeling the knight stiffen underneath him. A smirk breaks out on Julius’s face. _Good_. 

“My lord!” The man jumps up to bow and is dismissed with a wave of Julius’s hand; he settles back down and Julius can’t help but notice the change in his demeanor as he googles the situation before him. 

“Continue, Commander Oblonsky, with your briefing with Seven,” Julius lounges back, relaxing into Kururugi’s chest. “Pay me no mind.” His head finds the crook of Kururugi’s neck, enjoying the tensing of Kururugi’s muscles underneath him. Julius’s amusement climbs as he watches the bumbling man try to hide how flustered he is in the presence of Julius, not to mention Julius who is unabashedly reclining on the Knight of Seven. 

It is Kururugi who speaks instead, and Julius has to refrain from closing his eyes and savoring the way the knight’s voice feels against him. “Apologies, Lord Kingsley, but I am not a chair. If it pleases you, would you kindly allow me to stand so that you may sit comfortably.” 

“Hmmm…no. I am quite content here,” Julius responds, shifting in Kururugi’s lap, feeling childlike glee when he starts to feel the swell of Kururugi’s dick against his ass, imagining the face that the knight must be holding back by now, and it sends a shiver through his being. “Though I appreciate your suggestion, Kururugi, I find myself to be quite satisfied with my seat as of now.” 

Kururugi bristles, imperceptible except by the leverage Julius has from being snugged against him from thighs to shoulders. “…Of course, Lord Kingsley.” 

“You may carry on.” Julius waves his hand daintily, as if he were not the one who interrupted the debriefing to settle on Kururugi like a neglected house cat, as though the sole reason why the meeting goes on longer than usual was not because of Julius due to the fact that he would often resettle himself like a contrary cat trying to find a comfortable position in the knight’s lap—not a true challenge to be honest but appearances must be kept.

Unfortunately this precedence leads to the Knight of Seven somehow finding himself not sitting while in Julius’s presence after that point, killjoy that he is. Kururugi gets some odd looks at first from his new position at Julius’s shoulder during meetings but the knight’s authority here is second only to Julius’s and the Euro Britannian rabble have started to learn their place in the matter. 

It comes to a head at the next strategy meeting with Grand Duke Velaines, poor Kururugi just can’t help himself, stepping forward and leaning in to better see the troop movements as an aid points out the last skirmishes.

“With their eastern forces on the move—” 

“My dear knight,” Julius interrupts, attention focused entirely on Kururugi and barely paying attention to the redundant information given by the man (truly this meeting would have sufficed at the report he’d been delivered alone), “please sit. This meeting will last for a while yet.”

“My thanks for your concern, Lord Kingsley, but I believe I will continue to stand.”

“Sit, Kururugi,” Julius orders mockingly, “I _insist.”_

Someone across the table rolls their eyes. Julius casually takes note of the man’s rank to write up a warrant for his execution to file later.

“I’m afraid I must refuse, my lord.”

“Lord Kingsley, if you insist that the Knight of Seven sit, have you considered ordering him to?” some even more foolish _idiot_ deigns to say.

“Have you considered having yourself executed in the emperor’s name?” Julius asks mockingly and, hidden by the table, reaches out to wrap his hand around the back of Kururugi’s knee, slowly gliding up as he receives no response from the knight. When his hand finally reaches the apex of the knight’s thigh and his fingers barely tickle the sensitive insides of Kururugi’s leg does he get a reaction; it’s subtle—of course, Kururugi wouldn’t _ever_ crack in front of company—a long drawn out exhale, audible at the tail end like a sigh. But Julius knows him better than that, likes to _think_ he knows his precious Seven better than that, to know he won. 

The thrill of triumph lingers in his head the rest of the meeting, giving him shivers and as soon he is in his quarters, Julius is already palming himself, gasping as he fumbles with the zipper of his suit. He sighs as he frees himself from the confines of his clothing. It’s not too long before pleasure takes hold of his being, the memory of Kururugi pressing against him from before and the feel of the knight’s strong, powerful thighs he could gauge even through his gloves. 

The mood carries through to his next meeting with Shaing for a…friendly if still rather dull bought of chess. Shaing’s mind sets him apart as practically the only one here worth talking to despite the man’s distasteful demeanor so Julius doesn’t mind humoring him for his own amusement.

“One moment,” Shaing stalls before they can start, Julius turning to find Shaing instead fetching the room’s decanter set. “I had this sent over earlier.”

“What’s this now?” Julius can’t help but ask.

“A simple offering, no more,” Shaing says oh so descriptively. “I thought for tonight I might offer a…curiosity. One of the finest bottles of Japanese whiskey, imported before the war. Would you care for a glass, Sir Kururugi?”

“I am grateful,” Kururugi bows, “but I will have to—” 

“Kururugi, it is rude to refuse a gift from our host.” Julius shoots him a look and Kururugi grimaces. 

“…Very well, Lord Shaing,” Kururugi acquiesces, perhaps reluctant to engage with his former culture but still resigning himself to proper conduct of a guest. Or perhaps he just wants to carry on his impression of a stick in the mud, the knight still refuses to sit in Julius’s presence. 

“And for you, Lord Kingsley?” Mirth drips from Shaing’s words as his attention drifts back to Julius where it belongs, draped as he is across from the man over velvet cushions. “May I offer you a glass?” 

“I’ll pass,” Julius says blithely. “I don’t wish to sully my blood with _Number’s_ drink.”

Shaing just smiles enigmatically, the annoyance that he is, as if he expected as such. “Understandable, my lord. Perhaps I could offer you a glass of ‘Cru Lermont’ Merlot?” he asks, waving Jean forward who offers a bottle.

“That will do, I suppose.” It won’t, but Julius can be gracious to his lessers for their attempt at appeasement, pitiful as it may be. 

“Happy to be of service, my lord,” Shaing says with a small bow, before retrieving the glasses from the decanter set and pouring the drinks, setting them on the table next to the chessboard. Julius langually scoops up the glass of wine offered to him while Kururugi continues to stand, ignoring the drink in front of him. Once Shaing settles once more, he turns his attention to the chessboard. “Now, shall we begin?”

Hardly any time passes before Julius wins, _again_ , of course; Shaing’s juvenile projection of his subordinates onto the pieces leads him to his usual downfall of being unwilling to sacrifice them as needed. Perhaps one day Julius may even enlighten him of his folly, but for now it makes for a relaxing night, being able to casually crush Shaing.

After sipping the last of his drink, Shaing stands and bows. “I appreciate your company this evening, my lord. It is always a pleasure to test my intellect against someone with such high regards as yourself.” 

“I appreciate the sentiment,” Julius responds dispassionately, honestly wishing that the man would just go now that he’s served his purpose. Jean, however, finally serves her purpose, shuffling her superior off like a good attendant, and at last he and the Knight of Seven are finally alone.

Good.

“Honestly, Seven,” Julius sighs, “it’s almost like you’re trying your best to embarass me—such insubordination in front of our guests, though I suppose you seem to need permission from your superiors to maintain a certain form of dignity for yourself. You accepted Shaing’s drink, yet refused to touch it, let alone enjoy yourself, when he so graciously offered.”Kururugi’s frown hardens, and Julius can’t help but taunt him even more. Eyeing Kururugi with laughter in his eye, smirking as he lands his next blow. “Will you continue to let yourself be used in the name of chivalry?” This time Julius is not talking about Shaing. 

Something unrecognizable flickers in Kururugi’s eyes right before the knight takes the glass of liquid amber in his hand and down it in one fell swoop. Kururugi wipes the excess liquid caught on the edges of his mouth, grimacing, and Julius’s eye widens; not once during their time together did the knight drink. Frozen from the sight, Julius stares at Kururugi. 

“Perhaps, Lord Kingsley, you have something you would like to say?” The glint in Kururugi’s eyes sends a shiver down Julius’s spine as the man begins to take off his leather gloves. “Not that it matters,” Kururugi snorts derisively.

Julius’s eye goes wide at that, mouth falling agape while the knight takes advantage of his stunned demeanor to slowly unbutton the sleek, white coat of his uniform and push up his sleeves to rest disheveled at the base of his forearms. 

Kururugi barks a laugh at the look on his face, harsh and mean. “You might want to be a wanton cockslut and act like a common whore, Lord Kingsley but instead you’re just a blushing, useless virgin.” 

Kururugi’s arms come up to brace on the couch above Julius’s shoulders, knee sliding between his legs as he cages Julius in, and Julius tries to hold back a squeak as pressure grinds against his cock.

Gentle hands cup his cheeks, cradling his jaw between his thumb and forefinger as he tips his head and leans in. “All you seem to be good for,” Kururugi breathes against his lips, “is to be a panting bitch in heat.” 

Julius can’t help but whine into Kururugi’s hand, fidgeting at the warm pressure between his legs and the harsh words that he can taste. Floral and sweet, yet bitter all the same, and he wants more, despite the burning roughness that sears him from inside out. He tries to chase Kururugi’s lips, searching like a parched man for water— _water, water, Suzaku_ —only to be yanked back by the hair. 

The pricks of pain dancing across his skull pulls a wanton moan from Julius as Kururugi makes a sound of disapproval at him. “Learn your _place,_ Lord Kingsley,” he scolds, giving his hand a little shake, treating Julius as if he were nothing but a misbehaving puppy. 

Julius’s eye rolls back at the pressure and he keens, Kururugi forcing him in a posture of submission with his neck bared. _Disgraceful._ And he knows it. But when Kururugi yanks down the collar of his shirt and bites him at the base of his throat—hard, deep, _painful_ —Julius can’t help but submit to the Knight of Seven. He swallows around a groan and shudders as teeth sink into flesh, burning welling up within him as his insides twist in a way that almost hurts while Kururugi’s knee grinds against his throbbing dick punishingly, enticing him over the edge as Julius bites down on his own lip till it bleeds and abruptly comes in his pants.

Kururugi reaches up as Julius gasps hazily, tracing his mouth. “And look at this, you made a mess of yourself this time too. Don’t you have any self respect, Lord Kingsley?” Cool, bare fingers tug at his lip, squeezing lightly and sending an over-sensitive shiver through Julius as the knight’s knee presses insistently into his softening cock, cum cooling in his underwear and the base of his throat still burning, adding to the unbearable stimulation. Kururugi snorts a laugh and smears the blood from the cut in his lip across Julius’s cheek in a careful caress that could almost be called loving if it wasn’t for look in the man’s eyes that speaks still of restrained violence.

Julius sighs as Kururugi takes the weight off of his body. Still delirious, he barely registers his knight gathering his discarded gloves from the floor and buttoning his coat. The last thing he sees before darkness closes around him is Kururugi bowing to him, fist clenched to his heart and eyes harder than Julius has ever seen them. 

“I’ll take my leave now, my lord.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suzaku: knees julius in the crotch, calls him a virgin (derogatory), pulls his hair to tip his head back and bites his throat
> 
> julius: cums in his pants from this alone like a VIRGIN (WHORE) LOL

**Author's Note:**

> visit us at [@catboynyanster](https://twitter.com/catboynyanster?s=09) and [@stovinar](https://twitter.com/stovinar?s=09) on tweeter.com! :3c


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